


Bite Down

by Crystalwren



Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/F, Femdom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-09-09
Updated: 2006-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:53:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalwren/pseuds/Crystalwren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Integra has orders for Seras. Gonzo-verse, following Red Rose Vertigo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite Down

“Do it,” she says, her voice as cold and hard as the expression in her eyes.

Seras swallows and slides her fingers under the tiepin, feeling the silver’s icy burn even through her gloves. She unclasps it and lays it to the side, on the table. She can’t quite find a place to settle her eyes. To stare directly as Integra’s face seems unbearably rude; to stare past her even more so, but neither is as bad as where she really wants to look: at the snow white bandages around the other’s neck, covering the wound- the blood- that she knows is there.

“Take off your gloves,” and Seras tugs them off a finger at a time. She doesn’t know where to put them when she’s done. She dithers for an instant before stuffing them into a pocket in her skirt.

“Are you frightened?” asks Integra, an indecipherable smile twisting her lips.

Seras looks up and nods miserably. There is a gun on the table, next to where she put the tiepin and Seras knows that it is loaded and that the safety is off.

“Good,” she says with satisfaction. Seras bites her lip and wishes she were somewhere else.

No one, not even her Master it seemed, knew with any certainty what exactly had happened in the time before they came bursting into Integra’s office to find the vampire-whore embracing her. Integra’s glasses were off; her shirt was unbuttoned. Blood on her neck, blood soaking through her blouse and jacket. Smell of violation and helpless rage hanging in the air. Laura died. Integra clenched the dagger in her fist, the lethal little knife, and drove it into her own neck. Master laughing. Walter rushing forward and clamping his hands over the wound. Blood, so much blood, the air was thick with it, and the scent of rape was overwhelmed and forgotten.

But not entirely. Not by Integra.

Before she was summoned to the office, she’d been in her room, lying on her coffin bed, staring at the canopy and thinking of nothing much. Master was there. He’d taken to spending time in her room over the past few days. At first she’d been tense and upset, worried and frightened  
about whatever reasons he had for being there, but gradually she’d relaxed and began to enjoy his presence. Neither talking. Master leaning back in her single chair, feet on her table and staring up at the ceiling. Occasionally he’d turn his head and stare at her, long, measured glances as though he was thinking very hard about something. And when the knock and the summons came he’d looked at her straight in the eye and bared his teeth.

“Bite down,” he said, “and I’ll kill you.” And then she was hustled away before she had a chance to ask what he meant.

She was lead up to Integra’s office, told to enter and stand to attention before the desk. Integra had stood, taking a cane and leaning heavily upon it as she carefully made her way to the door and flicked the lock shut. She commanded Seras to approach and stand beside her as she lowered herself back into the chair. She’d taken her handgun from her shoulder holster and laid it on the table. Then she’d told the vampire get down on her knees.

Integra picks up the gun for the table and holds it for a second, hefting it gently in her hands. It’s a small calibre pistol, no comparison to Seras’ Harkonen or even the much smaller rifles used by the men on their raids, but it still scares her as Integra begins to run it gently down the side of her face like a caress. The message is very clear and very simple: _do as I tell you._ She can hear Integra’s heart beating hard and fast, and it only gets faster as the Director presses the pistol’s muzzle firmly between her eyes. Seras holds herself very, very still. Seconds stretch into eternity before Integra relaxes, raises her hand and puts the gun back on the table. Seras stares at the floor.

“Pretty Seras,” says Integra thoughtfully, and it’s all so strange, so fucking unreal, like the pictures Seras has seen of burning giraffes and melting clocks and women with drawers in their stomachs and any second now Seras thinks she’ll hear Integra shout, “surprise!” and laugh. But she doesn’t and instead she reaches forward and runs her fingers over Seras’ face in exactly the same way she’d touched her with the gun. “Pretty Seras,” again, as she pushes her fingers into her mouth, forcing her head up so she can touch her fangs. Saliva gushes unexpectedly.

 _Bite down and I’ll kill you._

Seras wants to cry.

Integra takes her hands away and leans back into her chair. Leather creaks as she folds her hands in her lap, immaculate gloves now soiled and wet. She looks away. Seras stays on her knees.

“You can take off my tie now.”

Seras has to stand to do it, and she’s so anxious about not hurting Integra she fumbles and makes it worse. Finally, the other woman clicks her tongue in annoyance and does it herself. She tugs the heavy satin ribbon out from under her collar and drops it on the table. Satin tie, silver cross-pin and steel gun arranged like holy objects on an altar. Symbols of duty, religion and death.

“Unbutton my jacket. Then my shirt.”

Integra smells like blood and antiseptic. Seras tugs the blouse open without being asked. She finds herself staring at Integra’s bra, at her breasts rising and falling gently with each firmly controlled breath. She swallows and looks up into Integra’s eyes. Integra smiles.

“Touch me.”

Integra’s skin is warm and soft between the white bindings at her neck. There is a second strip of bandage around her stomach, disappearing under her trousers. Integra is still smiling as her head falls back, pushing her chest into Seras’ hands, and Seras finds herself cupping the other woman’s breasts, over and over, starting at her armpits, gliding down the side and then curling under. She’s never touched someone else like this and the contrast between utilitarian white cotton and coffee-cream flesh is so fascinating that she forgets, for a second, her misery and her fear and all she can think of is the way it feels under her fingertips.

“Do you want me?”

Seras looks up, startled. Integra is looking at her intently. “Do you want me?” she asks again. “Am I beautiful?”

Seras swallows. “You’re very beautiful, sir.” She realises that her hands are still on Integra’s chest and she takes them away and hides them behind her back.

“Do you want me?”

Seras shuts her eyes tight. “I don’t know,” she whispers.

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know. Please.”

“Please what?” Integra sounded puzzled.

“Please, I don’t know.”

Seras risks opening her eyes and finds Integra staring at her hard, the familiar cold calculation in her eyes. Seras had never in her life seen a person with such vividly coloured eyes before she met Integra Hellsing. You’d think her glasses would mute the colour, but they didn’t. When she looked at you, her gaze was sharp enough to cut.

“Kneel,” she says finally, and Seras kneels. Integra spreads her legs wide in the chair and she looks like debauched aristocracy, her jacket and blouse gaping open and the crotch of her trousers tight against her body. “Lick me,” and Seras scuttles forward and presses between her thighs. She hesitates before leaning forward, but it’s obvious what Integra wants and what Integra wants Integra gets. She begins to lick, starting with the valley between her breasts. Integra sighs.

“Do you know,” she says dreamily, “what Carmila did to me? Hm?” She begins to stroke Seras’ hair, smoothing the spikes almost absently. “She did exactly what you’re doing now, little vampire. She took off my cross, she undid my shirt. She did exactly what you’re doing now. Then she bit me.”

Seras goes very, very still.

“She bit me on my right breast, right where your mouth is now, though the fabric of my brassiere.”

She feels Integra’s hand press something long and cold and hard against her scalp and knows that she’s holding a knife. She’d lay odds it was the same Laura had used.

“Did I say you could stop?”

Seras starts again.

“I couldn’t move. I couldn’t move at all. I was asleep when she came in, you see, and that’s when she cast the spell. It’s easier for that particular type of vampire to do it when their victim is asleep. I, Sir Integra Hellsing, head of the Hellsing family, head of the Hellsing Organisation, just another, pathetic, helpless victim! What a joke!” The stroking turns rough. Her head is yanked back roughly as Integra takes the in her other hand and holds it against Seras' throat. “I am not helpless,” Integra hisses.

“I know,” says Seras. It’s the only thing she can think to say.

Integra pushes her away, and tries to stand up. She fails the first time, but manages the second when Seras, after prising the knife out of the woman’s palm, helps her by taking her elbow. She pushes the vampire aside and grabs her cane, stands in front of the window. Seras can see their reflections in the glass, side by side, and Integra’s pale face is so beautiful. She hears Integra mutter one word:

“Whore.”

It cuts her.

There is silence. Integra is staring at her in the window, at the reflection of the vampire. Seras says nothing. She realises she is looking at the curves of Integra’s breasts in the glass and she hurriedly looks up at the Director’s face. By the way her mouth twitches, Seras knows she’d been seen. Integra sighs, and turns around. She steps back towards the chair and Seras moves to help her.

“Don’t touch me!” Integra tries to push her away but only succeeds in loosing her balance. Seras catches her and gently lowers her into the chair, her hair gently brushing the side of Seras' face. She is startled by how soft and warm it is, and she draws back, raising a hand to brush it behind Integra’s ear. She freezes; Integra’s face, cupped in her hand; Integra’s mouth, so close to her own; Integra’s breath, ever-so-slightly sour.

“You look frightened,” says Integra quietly.

“I am frightened.”

“Hurt me and I’ll kill you.”

Seras licks her lips nervously. She’s only kissed someone once in her life. Some boy behind the bike shed at high school. She hadn’t liked it. He’d tasted like bad meat and he’d slobbered as he’d groped at her chest. She had kneed him in the groin and after that none of the boys would go near her, leaving her to finish school a despised virgin with a reputation for violence.

Integra has closed her eyes.

Seras leans forward and presses her mouth against hers.

There are no floods of passion, no great gush of desire. They kiss and it is clumsy and it is brief and Seras’ fangs get in the way, but they manage somehow and when they draw apart it is there, like some huge, momentous secret: they had kissed.

She leans forward and takes Integra in her arms. Integra is taller, and heavier than herself but she lifts the woman as easily as if she were just a small child. She picks her up and Integra snakes her arms around Seras’ neck and presses her lips to her cheek.

“Carry me to that door over there,” a careless wave at the wall.

Seras obediently moves towards it. She sets Integra down and the woman fumbles at the doorknob, pulling a key from her pocket. She unlocks it and Seras follows her dumbly through a sitting room, a small, private study with shelves lined with books and then into a bare room with nothing but a four-poster bed and a dressing table. Integra moves carefully, her hand on the wall, leaning against it. She closes the bedroom door behind them both and moves slowly to the bed. She lowers herself down onto the mattress and sighs, looking suddenly very vulnerable and very tired.

“This isn’t turning out the way I had thought,” she says.

The vampire has the sudden, hysterical urge to laugh.

Integra begins to unbutton the cuffs of her jacket and blouse. “You’ll have to help me take these off.”

Seras walks to the edge of the bed and sits down beside her. Integra turns away and spreads her arms and Seras tugs first the jacket off, and then the blouse. Suddenly impatient she tosses them on the floor, reaching for the clip of Integra’s bra and snapping it open. The other says nothing as Seras flattens her palms against her shoulder blades, stroking the straps off her shoulders.

“Who helps you dress?”

“Walter.”

“Oh.”

Integra turns back around and pulls the bra off, throwing it on top of the blouse and jacket on the floor. It looked strange, the discarded garments on the bedroom floor of this precisely neat and immaculate woman, but Seras has no time to think as Integra wraps her arms around her neck and presses their lips together once again. This time it is better, and Seras feels something in the pit of her stomach begin to move, begin to clench. She doesn’t know precisely what she wants but she knows it has something to do with Integra’s bare breasts pressed against hers. She draws back and begins fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. Integra watches her with hooded, lazy eyes and suddenly Seras realises that she’s wearing the oldest of her bras, worn and stained. Blushing furiously she wraps her arms around herself to cover it. Integra quirks her mouth and raises an eyebrow. Seras realises it’s hopeless to try to hide the thing and instead decides to get rid of it entirely. She doesn’t feel much better without it. Her breasts were large, too large, she’d been told and she often felt them to be misshapen. She hunches her shoulders as Integra calmly inspects them, lifting them up in her hands to test their weight. Her hands are cold. She leans forward again and again they kiss.

“This is insane,” Integra mutters.

“Master would say that sanity is overrated,” ventures Seras timidly. Integra gives an unladylike snort.

“He would, wouldn’t he?”

Integra moves further back on to the bed and lies down on it fully, flicking her hair out from under her neck so it streams up and around her like a halo. Seras touches her glasses.

“Leave them.” Voice as icy as ever.

They kiss again, Seras lowering herself down on top of Integra carefully, so as not to jar her. She realises that they are both still wearing their shoes and stops to pull them off, first Integra’s then her own. She throws them down on top of the clothing on the floor and when she turns back Integra is watching her with those hard, cold eyes and suddenly, suddenly, Seras has the overwhelming urge to shatter that hardness, to see Integra’s eyes soften until they look like a person’s eyes should. Seras darts forward and presses her mouth against Integra’s as she roughly gropes her between her legs. Integra’s response is instantaneous. She pushes Seras up and slaps the vampire hard across the face.  
Her lip catches on her fang and the sweet copper taste of blood explodes across her tongue. She grabs Integra’s hands and pins them above her head. All she can taste, all she can smell is blood and she growls and darts forward and mouths the white bandage around the other woman’s neck.

 _Bite down, Police Girl, and I’ll kill you._

It hits her like a bucket of cold water, and through the scream that is her entire body crying out for blood she can hear Integra asking her, telling her to stop.

She rears back, horrified at what she’s done, what she’s about to do and stares at Integra wildly.

“That’s enough Seras,” she says calmly, and Seras wants to shout, to scream, _aren’t you angry, aren’t you frightened? I was just about to do what Laura did to you,_ but Integra only stares up at her, the calmest she’s been all evening.

“I’m sorry,” says Seras, her voice shaking.

“I know,” says Integra.

She clambers off of Integra, accidentally striking the woman's stomach with her knee as she does and Integra makes a small grunting sound in the back of her throat but doesn’t cry out. Seras pulls on her shirt and her jacket, fumbles with the buttons, shoves her bra into the same pocket at her gloves, drags on her boots, hoping on one leg in her haste. She’s halfway out the door before Integra calls her name. She stops with her hand on the doorknob, but doesn’t turn around.

“Thank you,” Integra says, and Seras leaves.

Through the study, through the sitting room, back into Integra’s office and out the door there. She gets the shock of her life when she nearly collides with Walter on her way out. He starts to give her his usual small smile in greeting but when he sees that her jacket is buttoned wrong and her gloves are missing it disappears off his face and is replaced by such a chilling expression of rage she can only push past him and bolt back down to her room. She runs all the way there and she’s glad, glad, glad that she’s a vampire and can outrun any human being that ever lived and she’s moving too fast for anyone to see her face.

She pushes open her door and crashes into the room and slams the door shut behind her. She’s breathing heavily, panting, almost sobbing, and she raises her eyes to meet Alucard’s. He’s still sitting in her chair with his feet on her table, and she knows that he knows exactly what went on upstairs.

“Master,” she says desperately, her voice breaking on the word.

He blinks at her slowly, like a great cat. “It’s all right,” he murmurs finally. “There’s no need to be upset.”

“I almost…I mean, I nearly…”

“Yes, I know.” He stands up. “But you didn’t.” He doesn’t say, _so I won’t kill you after all,_ but it’s there anyway.

Seras slides down until she reaches the floor. Master crouches beside her and regards her thoughtfully. After a while he reaches out and gives her a kind of pat on the head. Seras wraps her arms around her knees and buries her face. She shudders, and begins to cry. Master says nothing. Eventually the sobs peter out and she leans back on the door and stares at the ceiling. Silence for a while. Eventually she coughs, clearing her throat.

“I didn’t realise Sir Integra was…” She peters out when Master curls his lip.

He stares at her for an uncomfortable few moments, his expression indecipherable. Then he leans forward and licks her face, a soft swipe across the tracks of blood tears.

“Walter looked so angry…”

“He’ll get over it.”

“I don’t understand why.”

Master shrugs and stands, his limited attention span obviously gone. He reaches down and pats Seras on the head again.

“Good girl,” he says, and steps through the wall.

Seras sighs and picks herself up. She kicks off her boots, turns off the light and makes her way to her bed and drops down on it without bothering to get undressed. Her head whirls. Walter’s face. Integra’s eyes. The way she’d said _whore,_ and the way she’d said _thank you._

Thank you for what? Thank you for stopping? Thank you for doing what you did? Thank you for not biting? Thank you for kissing, for touching?

Seras sighs again and rolls over. She fumbles until she finds the remote and presses it with a click. There’s a soft whirring sound and the canopy begins to lower itself.

 _Master was right,_ she thinks. _Humans are incomprehensible._

Already the whole thing seemed unreal, like it happened a long time ago to someone else. The idea of Integra Hellsing having sex, kissing  
another woman, kissing her, _her,_ Seras Victoria is just too strange.

She closes her eyes in the dark and remembers the taste of Integra’s skin and the shape of her breasts.

END

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old fic (all of my Hellsing work is). It was beta’d some time ago, by the lovely Woodburner and Kelles. I have the upmost gratitude for both of them and of course, any remaining errors are purely mine. Both of them raised some very valid points regarding Integra’s characterisation, probably the exact same ones you’re thinking of right now. Let's just put them down to writer's inexperience on my part, shall we? So much work was put into this by all three of us, it seemed a shame to leave it lonely. It was originally posted on LJ, but I forget which communities. It has been most recently gathering dust on aff.net.


End file.
